


May this be your lullaby.

by MisaSDS



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Character Study, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nightmares, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24628390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisaSDS/pseuds/MisaSDS
Summary: Let there be light, someone said. And let the memories begin to parade in an incessant caravan of emotions that contradict each other, of light and shadow, of life and death. That between the haze and the thickness you can see scenes, familiar and unknown, close and distant at the same time.Let there be dark, someone said. And let the world be destroyed, broken, and cracked.Dreams usually show us part of our interior-self. Mukuro isn't surprised to dream something like that. That is why he doesn't like to sleep.One-shot. Mukuro-centric.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	May this be your lullaby.

Night came.

Turning his mind away from his usual gloomy thoughts, Mukuro looked up and observed the sky: the moon was bright, accompanied by a series of small stars that flickered in the dark.

Who would say that in Japan, you could also appreciate such skies, despite the incessant artificial lights of humans that usually overshadowed that view?

The night was peaceful, so serene there was no room for the companionship of fear in it. Enjoying the calm, he turned away from the window and walked through the ruins of Kokuyo. Moonlight filtered through broken glass and ripped curtains, allowing him to see more in that shadowy place. Not that he really needed the guidance of light to find his way, much less that he felt uncomfortable without it: unlike others, the darkness did not bother him.

How curious was people's fear for the dark, and how much they longed for the day and its light to come to save them from the hidden mysteries of the night. What nonsense! As if in the day, no monsters were lurking or tragedies happening.

When he reached his usual place - that tattered and old couch - he noticed there was a forgotten picture book on top of it: surely M.M had bought it for Fran in an attempt to entertain him. Mukuro shook his head and couldn't stop the corners of his lips from rising slightly in an almost imperceptible smile: M.M could complain a lot about Fran, but she was the one who handled him best and took care of him almost as much as he did.

With some curiosity, he took the book in his hands as he settled on the used cushions. The reign of the night was still to come, and he might well entertain himself by watching that childish volume.

When he opened it, he was greeted by a collection of fairy tales filled with beautiful and well-drawn illustrations, where the faces of the little creatures showed a curious display of mischief, and their wings sparkled with intricate designs. With resignation, he thought Fran would surely ask him to read some of those stories if he didn't fall asleep some night.

At least reading a fairy tale was better than trying to sing a lullaby, as the boy had asked him last time.

A lullaby, a curious invention of mothers concerned about the good sleep of their children: it was just a song with repetitive lyrics and a usually slow beat that made infants fall asleep. The closest he had to that was a simple, diluted, and sadder than comforting melody that was stored amid his mind. The lyrics were forgotten, lost in his memories. And he didn't even remember where he had heard it or from whom.

While reading those stories full of fairies and fantastic beings, unconsciously, he began to hum it. Later, he had to admit that those tricks of the parents of telling stories and singing for their children to fall asleep worked too well because, as it had not been for years, his eyelids felt heavy, and his consciousness flew.

He fell asleep with the book in his hands, and the melody echoed in his mind.

* * *

Let there be light, someone said. And let the memories begin to parade in an incessant caravan of emotions that contradict each other, of light and shadow, of life and death. That between the haze and the thickness, you can see scenes, familiar and unknown, close and distant at the same time.

All around him, everything was too blurry, like a watercolor painting that had been given too much water, deforming the figures of everything that was in it: plants, houses, people, even the voice. Without a doubt, the artist was a fearful one, a first-timer who was afraid of ruining the painting if he began to put details on it. A shame! So much potential wasted due to doubts.

In that blurred picture, there was a small garden; in the garden, there was a lake where little flowers came out, bloomed beautifully through the mud and dirt, and stood proud under the sunlight.

Lotus flowers. Mukuro recognized them even in that state of transparency in which all the world was.

He reached out to touch them, and just then, one of those distant and unrecognizable shadows approached. It went through him as if he were some kind of ghost; as if the unreal was him and not her; because she was a woman, a woman whose face was impossible to see: too full of mist to find anything in her expression.

The woman smiled, opened her mouth, and spoke.

A name known, in a tone of voice also known.

A childish figure appeared, ran to the call of that voice. His features were also unrecognizable.

The woman knelt, took the boy in her arms, and lifted him as she spun around and laughed. The sun was shining behind them, too bright, too glowing, hurting his sight. Mukuro closed his eyes for a few moments, but they were enough for when he opened them again, another figure would have appeared to join that scene so caramelized that made him want to vomit.

A man. His hair was black, his gait reflected arrogance, and he wore a simple but sleek formal suit. Mukuro watched as that person brought one of his hands to the boy's head, messing up his hair.

A typical family scene.

He shook his head, feeling like a fool to be seeing something like that.

A fool whom the little place that was very close to where his heart should be, was beginning to hurt.

Suddenly, the man turned to see him: him, Mukuro, who was now more specter than those three.

As if the painter had taken the wrong brush and then wanted to solve his mistake, all the surroundings began to turn a dark red, a red like spilled blood, like the one surely found in hellfire. The forms were diluted; everything was deformed and drained, forming a grotesque black puddle at his feet that immobilized him, made him unable to try to get out of that place.

Ah, that scenario was one more known and familiar to him. In some strange way, it made him feel more confident and comfortable.

What was that saying, " _a known evil is better than an unknown good_ "?

His eyes met others, and at that moment, that moment in which the man wore an insane smile, in which large and heavy dark circles were seen in his eyes, in which his entire face bore the unmistakable presence of deep despair and insanity, Mukuro recognized his features.

His face, in that state of madness, was an unforgettable one.

"Boss," Mukuro spoke with an impenetrable and incomprehensible calm. "Years of not seeing you."

"Our dear hope," he greeted him, his voice distorted and guttural. "I hope you have not forgotten us, your whole family."

"Family?" Mukuro pretended confusion. "Ah, of course. The one destroyed and turned into ruins at the hands of your son. A true tragedy."

"Is that so?" the figure asked as he approached him, the world falling apart and collapsing more and more with each step he took. "Not everything ended so badly, I see that, after all, you managed to control the power we gave you. Tell me, have you used it well?" he smiled. "Tell me, did you kill with it, those who persecuted us? I'm glad you understood your mission, even though we were dead."

He felt anger blossom, felt his mask break with those simple words that penetrated deep into him.

"Did you destroy those who humiliated and offended us?" the being, that spectrum formed of that putrid and hostile substance, continued. "I am proud of you."

No, no, no. Mukuro hadn't done anyone's dirty work!

If he killed it was by his own decision, it was for his cause; it was to end that world that had no salvation and enjoyed breaking, destroying, corrupting-

"Good work, my son."

Let there be dark, someone said. And let the world be destroyed, broken, and cracked.

The ground vanished. It no longer existed, it had disappeared, it had been erased from the map, leaving Mukuro alone; feeling that he fell into a kind of infinite abyss, a world where that man looked at him with that crooked smile before disappearing.

Then a scream echoed, creating fissures and breaking more that gloomy dimension filled with red and black, blood, and the smell of death.

A dying scream, a scream that rang in his ears. Mukuro brought his hands up to them and closed his eyes, trying to overshadow that nefarious, high-pitched sound that transmitted more and more pain every second.

He kept falling, kept falling into nothing.

He opened his eyes again when he felt something holding him, taking his arm between sharp grips. It was a crow. A crow with teeth like locks in all its beak, whose squawk echoed with the scream.

However, he paid no attention to the animal, nor to that one nor to the flock that approached, which flew towards him with carnivorous eagerness. Those beasts had arisen from that man, they had emerged from his remains, like an eternal nightmare that was going to be in charge of fulfilling the wishes of its founder: _never leave him._

What he paid attention to, what Mukuro looked at with a feeling similar to mercy, was a scene unfolding in front of him, transmitted through a kind of mirror made of blood that showed him a strange alternate world. In that world, the boy who had previously been happy in his mother's arms was now locked, trapped, with his legs and arms tied to a bed whose white sheets were stained red; with his face painted in agony, with his small shaking and weak body, with his eyes full of tears and his throat hurting from so much, so much asking and not receiving anything.

He could feel his pain, cutting him, opening him in half.

Mukuro trembled for the boy and his doom. He bemoaned him with bitter pity, regretted his inability to save him, and even tried to reach him, raising his free arm, reaching out to try to get to where the little being was. But, he was as impotent as a bird with both wings broken.

The crows screeched.

Still, Mukuro continued to ignore them. His sight, his mind, and his concentration were still attentive to the illusion in front of him: followed that little one who was crying, begging for a conclusion, who wanted everything to stop, to end. Mukuro could feel what that unfortunate being felt, tearing something more profound than just flesh:

Part of his soul. His humanity.

The boy's eyes filled with tears, drawn from the heart.

_Die, die, die._

_Why did no one grant him that wish?_

But, it had no logic, Mukuro thought; if the child wanted that so badly, _why not just do it?_ Why keep clinging into that bland, crooked, rotten life? Why keep looking for a way out when there was not, didn't exist, there was no light in that black world, in that world of humans and cruelty, and pain and suffering and-

_He laughed._

_He laughed_ because he understood what he was watching.

It wasn't necessary to finish seeing how the people around that unfortunate infant carefully moved the eye of Samsara as if it were an invaluable jewel. Everything made sense; everything had logic.

That was the climax. A pang of agony, a taste of true despair, etched into his heart.

_Mukuro laughed because he understood that the boy was him._

Some people said there is enjoyment in looking back to painful experiences past, a certain degree of satisfaction because it meant that you had overcome them and learned from them. He could hardly agree to it. 

After all, what had he learned? Pain and hopelessness, a feeling of emptiness. What had he got? The foolish resolution to continue living despite everything.

To annihilate everyone.

To kill everyone.

Because if there was no way out, then _he would create one_ : even if he had to destroy, burn, tear everything apart to do it _. Even if he had to destroy the whole world_.

What difference did it make if nothing was worth it there, if everything was rotten and corrupted?

There was nothing. There wasn't, there wasn't, there-

_"Mukuro!"_

The crows growled, their claws pulled out in defiance.

_"Mukuro! Open your eyes!"_

Open the eyes?

The crows began to flutter, their growls turning into screams when suddenly, between that red and black world, broken and worn, a ray of light filtered through the middle of a fissure.

Subtle, small, and weak. But somehow, it scared those beasts, made them howl and escape.

_"Mukuro-sama."_

Someone was calling him.

_"Mukuro-sama!"_

Who were they?

_"Shishou, you are scaring me."_

_"Mukuro-chan, wake up! I'm going to charge you for psychological therapy if you keep it up!"_

He knew those voices.

He knew the people to whom they belonged.

The world stopped.

The pain stopped.

A strange, incomprehensible sensation washed over him. It was not despair or anguish, or pain or suffering. It was not one he had ever experienced before. This one was different: it calmed and soothed him.

It lulled him, like _a lullaby._

_"So, really, there is a light."_

A voice - no, his voice, his voice from when he was a child - resounded.

_"Mukuro-sama!"_

_"Go with them. They are waiting for you."_

The last thing he saw was his childish figure smiling at him, dedicating that small but full of meaning gesture to him among the ruins of that world of nightmares, lost childhood, and shattered dreams.

A sad smile.

A happy smile.

It was a bit of both.

_"Mukuro!"_

* * *

He opened his eyes.

Mukuro blinked a few times without fully recognizing where he was. The light of day blinded him for a few seconds and made his head ache. His breathing was too shaky, and he felt like every muscle in his body was tense. Confused, he tried to get up, but just then-

Just then, Fran fell on him, terrified. Unintentionally, the boy jumped on his stomach.

"Fran!" he roared.

" _Shishou_!" the child shouted, "Get rid of your illusions, I don't want to see the complete _Shinigami_!"

 _Shinigami_?

He turned around, and what he saw was something he did not expect to find.

In full sunlight filtering through the curtains, rabid crows, ghostly chains, and misshapen beings made of shadows surrounded the room; you could even see half-completed silhouettes that could closely resemble the Vindice's covered form (so that was going to be the next scene in his nightmare, huh?). Although they were still in those moments petrified because their creator had awakened, it was clear that they had been moving and attacking before: the fact that not only his group but also _the Vongola guardians_ were in a defensive position with their weapons released, proved it.

_That's why he didn't like to sleep._

With a simple thought on his part, all his illusions vanished, dissolving into thin air. At that, a collective sigh of relief was present.

"What an unexpected and not so pleasant surprise," Mukuro said, showing his usual smile as if he had not been about to kill them all unconsciously. "To what do I owe the honor, Vongola?"

"Mukuro!" Tsuna called him from the ceiling. He was still using his hyper mode, and thanks to that, it didn't take him more of a couple of seconds to go down and get to where he was. More than anger, which would be the most logical reaction considering the situation, his face showed concern.

The illusionist blinked a few times, a trail of confusion settling on him.

That voice…

 _«_ _Mukuro!_ _»_

Had it been him?

The first voice that had called him?

"Is something wrong, Sawada Tsunayoshi?" he asked calmly.

"Of course it is!" at the moment of answering and saying the words, the Tenth Vongola boss returned to normal, with which his uneasiness became more evident. "I mean, uh..." he hesitated, "A-are you okay? What was what-"

"The illusions were a product of my state of unconsciousness when sleeping," Mukuro replied after yawning, not taking the matter seriously. "As you see, I usually have quite peculiar dreams."

"You bastard!" Gokudera complained, "What kind of dreams do you usually have to create all that?!"

"That is none of your business, Gokudera Hayato."

"You-"

"Now, now. Gokudera," Yamamoto intervened. "The important thing is that he is already awake."

"What extreme dreams!"

"Tsuna! Lambo-sama needs other clothes!"

"Huh?! Is it because of fear you-"

"Lambo-sama wasn't afraid!"

"You are all just bothering Mukuro-chan, go away!"

"And who are you to dare to say that?!"

"Gokudera-kun!"

"Arg, I don't understand what happens, byon!"

"Too loud..."

"B-boss, Mukuro-sama still..."

"Shishou, what were you doing with my storybook? Did you want to steal it from me?"

Mukuro felt his temple start to throb and a not so discreet tic showed in one of his eyes. Just woke up from a nightmare, he didn't feel like dealing with all.

"Shut up, everyone, or I'll bite you to death."

Even Hibari Kyoya was present?

Had he awakened, or was it a dream within another?

"All of you," Mukuro interrupted the series of words and shouts, drawing the attention of all those present who turned to see him with a certain nervousness. "What the hell are you doing here?" his voice sounded tired. Even his appearance seemed to reflect a little of those emotions.

"Mukuro," Tsuna called him, worried. "You-"

" _Yo_!" Yamamato exclaimed, all friendly smile and carefree attitude. "We came for you!"

"Excuse me?" Mukuro raised an eyebrow. "For me?"

"Sure, it would be silly to start a birthday party without the birthday boy."

He heard the words, but for some strange reason, he could not fully understand their meaning; it was as if they had spoken to him in an unknown language, in a peculiar language from another planet even.

Birthday.

Birthday Party.

Mukuro raised an eyebrow and turned to see Chrome. The girl noticed his gaze and startled; her cheeks turned a deep red.

"I was the one who told them, Mukuro-sama," she confessed, "When you took Fran to see about his school, I saw they asked you for basic information, and you stated that your date of birth was..." she left the sentence incomplete. A sudden realization came to her mind, causing her to exclaim with fear and shame. "Was it a wrong date? I-"

"Do not worry, Nagi" Mukuro reassured her, giving her a half-smile. Although he still looked a little tired, he didn't show any trace of anger. He had even used her real name in an attempt to appease her more easily. "I didn't expect you to pay attention to everything I do that way, though."

Chrome's face ended up having the same hue as that of a tomato.

M.M hissed as she rolled his eyes.

"Anyone else who likes to confess on that topic?"

The rest of the Kokuyo Gang looked away.

"Maybe we..."

"We let them in without a problem, byon."

"Just maybe, don't be mad at us, Mukuro-chan!"

Mukuro looked at them for a few seconds and snorted with amused resignation.

"If you don’t want it, I can eat the cake, _shishou,_ " Fran commented, "It will serve for you not gaining weight. You had eaten too much chocolate lately."

"Are you calling me fat?"

Beside him, unable to hold back any longer, Tsuna gave a tiny little laugh. Although, he ended up shutting up and sweating cold after Mukuro turned to see him with a grim smirk.

"It will serve to distract you, Mukuro," Yamamoto spoke, "We even can play a game of baseball after the party!"

"Who would like to play that?" Gokudera complained, "I would rather do other things."

"Oh yeah? Like which?" Yamamoto asked, but before Gokudera could even answer, he laughed and nodded eloquently to himself, as if he had found the answer. "I understand, you want to take the opportunity to ask Mukuro about the paranormal beings of the other time. But don't you think it's a bit rude considering what he just dreamed of?"

"You idiot!" he exclaimed, "Tell them by name. They are called demons of the abyss!"

Mukuro raised an eyebrow. "Are you interested in those topics?" he asked.

Gokudera looked away and frowned. "I cannot think of who else to ask" he admitted, "And after seeing part of your dreams, without a doubt, you must know something."

"I could even show them to you," Mukuro commented, "If you're not scared, of course."

"For real?!" Gokudera's eyes sparkled with emotion, "What other beings do you know? How about some flying creatures? Those have always seemed great to me and-"

Flying.

_Fly._

Suddenly, Mukuro remembered part of the lyrics of the lullaby. The lyrics of that melancholic melody that had echoed in his head the night before, the sure cause of those nightmares.

With the lyrics on it, it didn't sound as sad now.

"Stop talking and move."

" _Kufufu_. As killjoy as ever," Mukuro said mockingly. "Why your presence, little lark? Have they finally tamed you?"

"Cavallone told me I could take advantage of the situation and then fight with you if I contributed to this," Hibari smirked. "I hope you don't run away with your tail between your legs."

"Oh?" he cocked his head, amused. "We will see who ends up like that."

"Then, it's done!" Ryohei exclaimed, and in a quick and unexpected movement that surprised everyone, he took Mukuro as if he were a doll and-

 _He carried him_. He held him up, lifting him into the air.

Tsuna almost passed out on his nerves.

Hibari seemed _to laugh_.

Mukuro had never felt so embarrassed in his entire life.

"Sasagawa Ryohei, put me down now or-"

"You are too light to eat as much chocolate as the child says," the sun guardian commented with a frown. "You need to improve your diet; you need to eat extremely!"

"I don't even know what you mean by extremely!"

"I'll show you when we get to Sawada's house! Go!"

"Aren't you going to put me down?!"

His words were ignored. Without even wanting to finish listening or waiting for the others, Ryohei screamed as he ran. Mukuro had to pray to some non-existent God asking that Ryohei not to throw him to the ground while watching as the caravan of people ran after them.

"Oni-san!"

"Use your brain for once in your life, will you?!"

"Lambo-sama also wants to be carried!"

"Mukuro-sama!"

It was a strange sight. Despite everything, they seemed to be smiling.

All of them were full of laughter and smiles that came and went with illusion, full of dreams and hopes. And seeing them, he could not help but think that perhaps, someday his soul would be able to find the longed-for peace that he had sought so much, to be able to laugh in the same way.

Maybe, even if his wings were broken, he could use them to try to fly along with them, as the song said.

_"I will fly with you,_

_My child, my love_

_Sweet dreams to you,_

_My only one._

_I will fly with you._

_My child, my love,_

_My only one,_

_Until we reach the stars.”_

Now that he thought about it, well intoned, the melody was beautiful. Maybe he could make it his lullaby and end his constant nightmares. Who knows?

With them, he had already learned that few things were impossible.

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot originally created for Mukuro's birthday. Happy birthday Mukuro!


End file.
